Tortilla

As I mentioned in a previous entry, I have thus far distinguished myself as the least culinarily apt person in my apartment. So when the chance presented itself to make inroads into that stereotype, I jumped at it. My friend Alex, who studied abroad in Spain before coming back on a Fulbright grant, knows how to make tortilla, and we decided to make a night of it. I suggested my place because a) my piso has a huge kitchen and b) I hoped my flatmates would 'catch me' in the act of cooking in a legitimate way (i.e. something more elaborate than boiling water or assembling a sandwich). Devious, I know.

A quick note about tortilla. It is not the same tortilla we are familiar with in the U.S. I only knew tortilla as a Mexican and Latin American food, simply a type of flour-based bread used mainly as a wrap. But in Spain, tortilla española is translated to "Spanish omelette"; a thick pie made of potato and egg. To me, it has the consistency of a quiche more than that of an omelette (pictures are coming, you'll see what I mean). Anyway, tortilla de patata (potato) is only the most basic kind--tortilla can contain cheese, meat, vegetables, etc. Tortilla francesa (French omellete) is what we think of as an omelette in the U.S. This is a useful distinction to know, as many tapas bars and restaurants offer both. Now, I love tortilla. It is one of the few authentic Spanish dishes I can enjoy as a vegetarian.

On the night in question, my friends Alex, Caitlin, and I, decided to make the basic tortilla, which requires eggs, potatos, onions, salt, and oil. Lots of oil, actually. We had a great time getting everything together, mixing the ingredients, cooking on the stove. Since my flatmates are always so generous with their food, we bought enough ingredients to make two tortillas so I could offer one to the apartment.




Our first attempt, however, did not turn out exactly as planned. We miscalculated the potato to egg ratio, and when it came time to flip the tortilla (the most difficult part), it did not hold together properly and we ended up with a bit of an oily mess more or less 'resembling' a tortilla. Of course, my flatmates who had been in and out of the kitchen periodically and had been observing our progress, saw this first attempt sitting unpleasantly on the kitchen table. There were some polite, mumbled comments of "oh. . .is that how it's supposed to look?". This, of course, only made me more determined to nail our second try.


Luckily, the second time was a charm. We used double the number of eggs for a similar amount of potatoes, and when it came to flip it (an honor bestowed upon me), it held together perfectly. Even better, it tasted like. . .tortilla! It was genuinely really good. In fact, the first one we made tasted fine too, a bit oily but certainly edible. The second one, though, was a triumph. We left it on the kitchen table with a note saying "soy para todos" (I am for everyone). And I am pleased to say that by the next night, there was only one slice left.








I know this is sort of a frivolous entry, but to me, it's the little things that form the texture of experience as much as the big ones. I'm sure when I look back on the year, I'll remember the teaching and the students and all the 'serious' aspects of adjusting to a new culture and language, but I'll also remember my fumbling attempts at making tortilla with my friends.

My next entry, finally, will deal directly with my first few weeks of school. I have so many thoughts and observations; my experience so far has even made me consider changing the focus of my secondary project from the role of religion in public education to a more comparative survey of the differences between Spanish high schools and those in the States (public schools). Vamos a ver (we'll see).:-).